The Path Not Taken
by digitalfletch
Summary: A freak event leads Dr. Beverly Crusher to re-evaluate her relationship with the man who has loved her for more than twenty years, Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
1. Realization

_Damn_.

Dr. Beverly Crusher sat in her office in the _Enterprise_ sickbay, staring sightlessly at her padd data on Ensign Koh and cursing her wandering mind. It was evening, ship's time, and moving towards the end of her shift. She should be nearly finished collating and analyzing her data on the Ensign's condition so that she could complete her report before she went off duty.

Instead, she found her thoughts once again returning to a certain Jean-Luc Picard. Due to their various duties and this current military situation on Almaga471 she hadn't seen him for several days, and found herself missing his familiar presence. Despite the bitter aftertaste left by their ill-fated mission to Kesprytt III six months previously and her determined refusal to explore the romantic possibilities it engendered, things between them had quickly returned to normal. Jean-Luc, respecting her wishes, had never again brought up the subject, and his forbearance enabled them to relax back into their comfortable and abiding friendship.

In fact, in a strange way they seemed to be growing closer than ever before. They'd begun to share each other's meals, and finish each other's sentences. It was as though the intimacy of the experience that they'd shared – as undesired as it had been at the time – had somehow bound them even more tightly together.

It was because of this growing closeness that she found herself increasingly worried about him.

_No, not worried. Concerned._

She activated her console again, pretending it was only for the second or third time that evening instead of the eighth or ninth. "Computer, what is the status of Away Team 1?"

"_Away Team 1 returned to Enterprise 1943 hours."_

Beverly let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Jean-Luc was back. He was safe.

That left only one away team down on the surface. Almaga471 was a relatively new member of the Federation, and one that was now battling insurgents from their hostile neighboring planet. While Jean-Luc and various other _Enterprise_ crewmembers had spent the day meeting with the Almagan defense ministry and various military leaders across the main continent, Commander Data and his team had been deployed to investigate the northernmost island on the planet after the Almagans had reported some unexpected atmospheric disturbances in that region. The potential for armed confrontation involving Starfleet was real, much as it had been on Kesprytt.

Her thoughts inexorably drifted back to the events on that planet.

The revelation that Jean-Luc had loved her from the time they'd met twenty years before had come as a shock, and as an unexpected gift. Not only was it deeply, profoundly flattering, it clarified several things that she'd always wondered about: why he'd been so reluctant to have her join the _Enterprise_ seven years ago, and why he'd so carefully avoided her after Jack's death. It also explained some intriguing facets of the man himself: why he'd never married, or had children, and why none of his occasional shipboard dalliances had endured.

For it had become clear to her during their time together on Kesprytt that, far from waning with the passing of time, his passion had not only reawakened, but even deepened, in the years that they had served together on the _Enterprise_.

As for the thorny question of how she felt about him…

It was true that there had always been a frisson of attraction, a chemistry between the two of them, right from the very beginning. It also clearly hadn't waned with time, as their experience with the _Tsiolkovsky_ infection proved. All these years later she was if anything more attracted to him now than ever before, for the passage of time had only added to his considerable physical attributes both experience and an extraordinary strength of character.

Yet she'd told herself that night on Kesprytt that, although she doubtless cared for him deeply, she didn't harbor the same romantic inclinations. He was her captain, and her best friend, but there could be no possibility for anything more.

Which hadn't prepared her for the intense relief she'd felt the next morning upon pushing him through the force field into Kes territory and out of harm's way. Or for the following swift, sure realization that she could bear any fate at the hands of her Prytt captors so long as she knew he was safe.

Or thinking further back, to that harrowing experience three years before when she'd inadvertently become trapped in Wesley's warp bubble experiment. As the bubble shrank and with it her memories, the one person she'd held on to longest in her mind and heart – longer than her colleagues in sickbay, her friends on the command staff, even her own son – was Jean-Luc.

These were only a few of the signs that, beneath it all, she had come to care much more strongly about him than she wanted to admit – even to herself. Because no matter how many times she told herself they were just friends, nonetheless she did love Jean-Luc Picard. She had for years.

And not in an entirely platonic, comradely way, either.

But with that sneaking realization came the fear. Jean-Luc was the person with whom she was most comfortable, and the one person in whom she confided, and trusted, more than anyone else in the universe. She needed him as a comrade in arms, as a confidant, a friend. His presence nourished her, sustained her, like nothing else in her life.

They both had jobs that placed them in deadly peril on a regular basis. There had been any number of occasions in the past when one or the other of them had nearly died in the line of duty, and that wasn't likely to change any time soon. If something were to happen to him, it would be painful enough to endure the loss of the precious friendship they already had, without the added agony of having lost a lover or husband as well.

She knew full well what it was like to love a Starfleet officer with all her heart, and to lose him without the slightest warning. She couldn't stand to love and lose another.

She could survive it. Of course she could. She was strong, like all the Howard women before her. But it would leave her heart an empty shell that nothing would ever fill again. And that was a cost that would be too high to bear.

No, she just couldn't take the gamble. Even if it meant keeping Jean-Luc at arms length for the foreseeable future.

After all, she was certain that they would eventually get together. Perhaps when they were both retired and comfortably settled somewhere back in Federation space they could find the mutual fulfillment they both so deeply desired. There was still plenty of time.

With that thought bringing a slight smile to her lips, Beverly picked up her padd and began to analyze her data.


	2. Revelation

Twenty minutes later her combadge chirped. "Transporter room to Dr. Crusher," came the disembodied voice. "Four to beam directly to sickbay."

"Understood," Beverly replied, already on her feet and on her way out of her office.

As she strode into the main room the air shimmered and four people materialized before her. One was Commander Data, and two others were junior _Enterprise_ crewmembers, Lieutenant Yulin and Ensign Nzogbia, the latter of whom was nursing an injured shoulder. But it was the fourth member of the party that caused Beverly to stop in her tracks and stare, nonplussed.

She was looking at mirror image version of herself. The same features, the same eyes and hair, the same uniform. An exact replica – with one glaring exception.

Because it was obvious at a glance that something was terribly wrong with the other woman. She was haggard and as pale as a wraith. And while Beverly had always been slender – the gift of her father's genes – this version of herself was drastically underweight, nothing but skin and bones, her uniform hanging loosely off her gaunt frame.

Beverly would have immediately diagnosed that the other woman was suffering from a major illness, if it wasn't for the look of numb, haunted grief that permeated her gaze. Instinctively Beverly knew the source of the misery in her alternate self's eyes. Someone close to her had died recently, someone whom she'd dearly loved.

That intuitive understanding sent an icy chill down her spine. Setting her jaw she shrugged it off, knowing that right now there was work to be done.

Fortunately it took only a few minutes for her and her staff to see to the injured Ensign Nzogbia, after which she and Data curiously pulled aside the mirror Beverly for an explanation.

"The three of us were on our way from DS7 back to the _Enterprise_," she began, leaning casually against an empty biobed.

"Deep Space 7? In a shuttle? I do not understand," Data said.

The mirror Beverly crossed her arms. "The station had been overwhelmed by a series of severe magnetic storms that disrupted almost all standard operations, including the transporters. The _Enterprise_ was called in to provide resources and assist with repairs. Lieutenant Yulin, Ensign Nzogbia and I went down to help with the casualties in sickbay, and were on our way back to the ship when a wormhole just appeared out of nowhere, right on top of us."

Data and Beverly exchanged knowing glances. They'd had their share of experiences with sudden spatial anomalies in their own universe as well.

"Everything went black for what seemed like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Something must have affected the shuttle engines because when we dropped out of the wormhole none of the controls responded. Apparently we were close enough to the planet's atmosphere to be pulled in by its gravity, and there was nothing Lt. Yulin could do to prevent our crashing on the island." She shuddered. "Thank goodness we all survived. I was able to heal Yulin and myself with the biostimulator, but it must have been damaged because it failed before I could see to Ensign Nzogbia." She turned to Data. "If your team hadn't come along when it did…"

Data inclined his head. "Gratitude is unnecessary, Doctor." He continued, "Are you are aware that the probability of an event such as the one you experienced occurring is approximately one billion, four hundred million, eight –"

"Yes, thank you, Data," Beverly interjected with a wry glance at her duplicate, before Data could reel off the odds down to four or five decimal places.

"You are welcome. Well, if you will excuse me, Doctors," Data inclined his head towards both Beverlys, "I should return to the bridge and make my report."

They nodded in unison, watching him depart.

And now, with nothing else to occupy her mind, Beverly's attention was drawn inexorably back to her alternate self, and the quiet anguish that consumed her.

It was wrong of her to even ask, but she had to know. She motioned towards her office where the two of them could have a measure of privacy. Her mirror version entered unhesitatingly and settled herself on a corner of the desk. As the door closed behind them Beverly leaned towards her opposite, almost close enough to touch.

"Who was it?" she whispered. "Please – I have to know. Not…Wesley?" Her beloved son, her child and Jack's. Her only kin. It barely bore thinking about. _Please, not him._

But her other self was shaking her head slowly, sadly. "No."

The negative was both a relief and a concern. For if not Wesley… "Then –"

At that moment the door to her office hissed open and Captain Picard strode in, breaking the spell they seemed to have fallen under. "Dr. Crusher," he began, and then stopped abruptly, taking in the mirror image appearance of the two women before him.

"Yes, Captain?" Beverly prompted after a moment of silence had fallen. It was only then that she realized her alternative self had gone still and was staring at Jean-Luc…

…as though she had seen a ghost.

And with a sudden, awful clarity, Beverly realized who it was in the alternate universe that had died.

"Jean-Luc," the other Beverly whispered in disbelief, her voice cracking.

"Doctor," he quickly acknowledged her with his customary courtesy, and then nodded at Beverly herself. "Beverly."

"I…," he cleared his throat uncertainly and addressed the mirror Crusher, "I presume you are aware that you have passed through a spatial anomaly into a universe that is not your own. If you are to safely return home it is imperative we return you to the site of the wormhole immediately, before its position deteriorates."

"I understand," she nodded, staring at him fixedly, almost greedily.

"I've come to request your permission to have Commander Data and Mr. La Forge access your ship's transponder data, in order to determine it's precise location and trajectory so that we may restore you to your own universe once Ensign Nzogbia has fully recovered from his injuries." He spoke with his usual composure, only the slightest note of hesitation in his voice alerting Beverly to the presence of an underlying discomfort.

Beverly glanced sidelong at Jean-Luc. She knew that Data or Geordi could easily have requested permission to access her alternate's ship logs themselves, without the need for the Captain's intervention. It seemed that his interest had been well and truly captured by the presence in sickbay of another version of herself. The thought was appealing, and she had to work to keep the pleasure she felt bubbling within her from reaching her face.

"Yes, of course," the other Beverly replied, her eyes never leaving Jean-Luc's.

Jean-Luc absently tugged down on the hem of his uniform tunic. He was clearly feeling the full intensity of the mirror Beverly's gaze upon him, but was unable to fathom the reason for it. "Thank you, Doctor. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see to it that the information is transferred and a shuttlecraft is readied for your immediate return."

"Thank _you_, Jean-Luc," she replied, her voice wavering as she spoke his name despite her obvious efforts to control it.

"You're welcome," he said formally, then nodded at both women in farewell. "Doctors." With a final, curious glance at the mirror Beverly, he turned and briskly exited the office.

The alternate Beverly watched his departure intently, one hand slightly raised as though wanting to reach out and caress his face from across the room. With a half-audible sigh, she lowered her hand to her lap and sat back with head bowed.

Beverly watched her sadly. "It was Jean-Luc, wasn't it," she whispered, already knowing the truth. _He was the one who had died._

Her duplicate squeezed her eyes shut in pain. "Yes."

Beverly had to look away, needing a moment to compose herself. When it came to she and Jean-Luc, this was her worst nightmare come true. This was what she dreaded – that once they became lovers she would lose him, and would never recover. It seemed her fears were well founded, she reflected, hardly able to breathe through the wave of bitter disappointment that washed over her at the thought.

"How long ago?" she murmured at last.

"Twenty eight days – just under a month." The other Beverly frowned self-deprecatingly. "I don't think I've slept a single night since then. And as for breakfast…" her voice trailed off.

"What…what happened?"

The other Beverly snorted, sounding more like her usual self for just an instant. "It was typical Jean-Luc," she replied, her expression softening at the memory. "Starfleet Command sent us to Sirius V as neutral observers for a peace conference between the Sirians from that solar system and the neighboring Lyrans."

She looked questioningly at Beverly, who shook her head. She'd never heard of either of them.

"The Lyrans were more technologically advanced than the Sirians, so to level the playing field the use of high level technology, like transporters, was forbidden during the negotiations. So Jean-Luc took a ground shuttle to the conference along with three delegates from the Pyraxian Alliance, who were also there to observe."

The alternate Beverly drew a deep, shuddering breath. "On the way the shuttle was hit by a missile and…and heavily damaged. We later found out it had been fired by Sirian dissidents who wanted to sabotage the peace negotiations. Jean-Luc managed to drag two of the Pyraxians to safety. He…he had just gone back in for the third when," her voice dropped to a raw whisper, anguish bleeding through every word, "the shuttle exploded. He – neither one survived."

Beverly's heart clenched. She looked away for a moment to let her other self regain her equilibrium. _How very like Jean-Luc_, she thought painfully. Dying in the line of duty. Sacrificing himself for others without a moment's hesitation. Sacrificing himself to save three people as readily as he would to save three thousand.

Leaving the woman who loved him grieving for a future that would never be.

She turned slowly back to her counterpart. "How long were you together?" she forced herself to ask. _Years, from the sound of it_. Years to love him, to build a life with him, perhaps even to bear his children…for a moment she was consumed with envy for her other self, who had had the courage she lacked to take the other path.

The duplicate quickly glanced down, but not before Beverly could see her eyes fill with tears. The reply, when it came, was hollow and dull. "We were never together."

Beverly stood stunned as the other woman continued, her voice thick with regret, "After Kesprytt, when we could no longer hide our true feelings from one another, Jean-Luc wanted to move our relationship forward. But I couldn't do it – I was too afraid. Afraid I couldn't live up to what for over twenty years he'd imagined me to be. Afraid if I let myself acknowledge how I truly felt that, if something happened to him, I would never recover."

She sighed, a weighty, anguished sound as though a vise was slowly crushing her chest. "So I pushed him away. And then I lost him anyway." Her words were laden with remorse.

Beverly couldn't speak. This alternate version of herself had never been with Jean-Luc, either. Yet she was mourning him as though she'd lost a lover, a husband. The implications made her feel sick inside.

Her alternate self shook her head sharply, as though attempting to force herself back into the present moment. "Are you and your Jean-Luc close?" she asked.

Beverly felt unnerved by her own blue eyes boring into her. "We are," she replied, suddenly feeling as though they were at once far too close and yet not nearly close enough.

"But you're not –"

"No."

Her opposite smiled wanly. "I'm the last person to tell someone how to live their life. But if there's a worse feeling than the one I've had for the past twenty-eight days, I don't want to know what it is. All I know is that I had a chance to be happy, and I…I didn't take it." She shook her head knowingly, regretfully, tears once again shining in the corners of her eyes. "All I'm left with are memories, and thoughts of what might have been. And I don't…I don't think that pain is ever going to go away."

Taking a deep breath, she drew herself off the desk and went to check on the recovery of Ensign Nzogbia.

* * *

It took less than an hour for Commander Data and Mr. La Forge to de-convolute the flight transponder data and prepare a shuttlecraft for the short voyage back to the northern tip of Almaga471. Well within the window required to successfully pilot the craft back though the wormhole, Captain Picard thought with quiet pride at the efficiency of his crew. Indeed, the alternate Lt. Yulin and Ensign Nzogbia – fully recovered from his wounds – were already running the pre-flight check and were within a few minutes of being ready for departure.

Jean-Luc and the mirror Beverly slowed their steps as they approached the turbolift. The walk from sickbay had been conducted in silence, a silence that felt strained to the Captain. He was beginning to regret his impulsive decision to accompany her down to the shuttle bay. After all, it wasn't as if she needed him to show her the way.

But after seeing this version of Beverly in sickbay, her haunted look and how she seemed to hang on his every word and gesture with silent desperation, he could only deduce that his alternate was no longer present in her world. And while he had only his own feelings to go on, he knew that if their positions were reversed he would cherish any opportunity to be with a version of her again, however fleeting the moments.

Yet as he stole another glance at her white, pinched face, he wondered if what he had meant as an act of kindness was turning out to be anything but. He may have misjudged her feelings in this situation, as indeed he had done so many times in the past. To his eternal regret it seemed as if he and Beverly rarely saw eye to eye when it came to matters of the heart.

The mirror Beverly continued to studiously avoid his gaze as they entered the turbolift. They stood side by side facing the doors as he announced their destination. Then unexpectedly she turned to him, placing a hand lightly on his arm.

"Jean-Luc, I'm sorry," she started, swallowing hard, her sapphire blue eyes suspiciously bright in the harsh glare of the lift, "I…I know I shouldn't ask, but –"

Jean-Luc cut her off with a nod, anticipating what she was going to say. Already in agreement, and not wanting her to have to make the awkward, painful request aloud.

He was well aware he shouldn't do it – it was against protocol, and certainly against his better judgment. But this was Beverly. An alternative version of the woman he had loved for so long, but Beverly nonetheless. His heart ached to see her in such distress, and he knew he would do anything in his power to ease her pain, if only for a few brief moments.

"Computer, halt lift."

She hesitated, uncertain, so he reached out and settled his hands on her hips, gently pulling her towards him. With another deliberate nod to convey that he knew exactly what he was doing, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers.

She responded instantly, passionately, hers lips melting into his. For a blissful eternity their lips caressed, and then he felt her tongue stroke against his teeth, seeking entrance. He opened his mouth to her, and felt more than heard her whimper at the back of her throat as she immediately deepened the kiss.

Her arms slid up around his neck as he pressed her body closer, tasting her profound, bittersweet yearning as their mouths moved together. The tension in her slender frame, the tautness of her arms around his, spoke of an underlying desperation that filled his heart with sadness.

Finally she pulled back with a shudder and dropped her hands to her sides. Took a small, deliberate step away from him, her breathing fast and harsh in the quiet of the motionless lift.

Unshed tears shone in her eyes.

Jean-Luc let his own hands fall, resisting the urge to tug on the hem of his uniform. "Computer, resume," he said softly, so as not to risk upsetting her delicate composure.

As the lift finally halted at their destination she turned to take a step forward and activate the door sensor, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. It wasn't much, but there was one last thing he could give her to take back to her own universe. He hoped it would bring her at least a measure of solace.

"If it means anything," he told her softly, "he knew how you felt. He _knew_." His voice rang with truth, because he did know. After their shared experience on Kesprytt III, he was absolutely certain that deep down Beverly did love him, the same way that he loved her.

At that she nodded fractionally, her lips lifting into a slight, despairing smile, and stepped out to make her way to the shuttle.

Jean-Luc, his throat tight with sorrow, didn't follow.


	3. Resolution

Two days later Beverly found her thoughts still lingering on the chance encounter with her alternate self. She couldn't stop thinking about how similar the two of them had been, how closely her duplicate's thoughts and fears echoed her own. They had both been to Kesprytt, and had both reacted in the same way. That meant their timelines had only diverged a few short months ago, perhaps even less. Fortunately her own _Enterprise_ had never been anywhere near Sirius V, or even now she might be experiencing the same heartbreaking loss as her counterpart.

She understood that kind of loss. Understood it all too well. Her parents, Jack, Nana – and to a certain extent even her son – over the years she'd lost everyone that she'd ever loved in her life.

Everyone except Jean-Luc.

The truth of the matter was that he personified far more to her than just her captain and her best friend. Beyond Wesley he was the closest thing she had to family. And he was always there for her, asking nothing in return except that she take care of herself and try her best to be happy. Sitting here now she was beginning to wonder if she wasn't taking him far too much for granted. After all, retirement was a long way off for both of them. And as Starfleet officers there was no guarantee that either of them would even make it that far.

There had never been any escaping the harsh reality that she could lose Jean-Luc at any time, just like she'd lost Jack. But she had long presumed that, in Jean-Luc's case, keeping her emotional distance from him would adequately protect her from being heartbroken by his demise.

The encounter with her alternate self had served to illustrate just how astonishingly unrealistic that assumption was.

So perhaps all this time she'd been focusing on the wrong thing. Maybe it was time that she concerned herself not with what she would do if he died, but what she was going to do while he lived. It was her choice – she could try to find happiness with Jean-Luc now or continue to hold back, closing herself off to the future in a futile attempt to avoid ever having to relive the suffering of the past.

She thought back on her life with Jack. _All these many years ago now._ If she could travel back in time, would she – knowing what she knew today, knowing how it all ended – would she still marry him?

_Yes_, she decided, _I would_.

Their time together had been worth the ultimate pain.

And if that was the case, then why was she denying herself now? Jean-Luc, by his own admission, had silently loved her for over two decades. As a Starfleet officer her life had been at risk all that time, and yet he'd never once asked her to compromise her duty in the interest of safety. His profound feelings for her never wavered, yet he'd never interfered with her work or used his position to try and protect her from danger. If he had the courage to love despite the inherent risks, why couldn't she?

One thing was clear: more than anything else she wanted to avoid becoming that other Beverly, who would spend the rest of her life tormented by what-ifs and what-might-have-beens, regretting all the things left undone and unsaid.

Beverly folded her arms resolutely. It was time to stop running – running from the past, and running from her fears. Resolved, she reached out and activated her console. "Computer, send private message to Captain Picard. Message reads: _Dinner tonight, 1900, my quarters?_"

Within seconds the reply arrived: _I'll see you then._

* * *

Beverly sat back in her seat, contemplating her dinner companion. They had finished their simple meal and Jean-Luc was leaning back comfortably in his chair, legs crossed, absently swirling the remaining amber liquid in his wine glass. Soft music played in the background, as it often did when she hosted one of their meals.

She shot him a mischievous smile. "Do you remember the time Guinan made that special red Xixtan delicacy," she recalled, "and –"

"Lieutenant Worf thought it was Romulan blood pudding?" Jean-Luc nodded. "It was days before he set foot in Ten-Forward again."

He chuckled at the memory, Beverly watching with pleasure. It was delightful to see him this relaxed. She could get so annoyed with him at times. At his exasperating refusal to admit weakness, his stubborn reticence about personal matters, his maddening propensity to look on the bright side no matter how bleak the situation. Yet he was an extraordinary man, a very special man. He was one of a kind, and over the years his steadfast and selfless devotion had become the only fixed point in her universe.

Jean-Luc swallowed the last of his wine and set down his glass, glancing over at Beverly. She was looking at him with a small smile on her lips, and the softness in her gaze made his heart turn over. "Penny for your thoughts?" he murmured, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Beverly swallowed. It was now or never. Jean-Luc sat poised in his chair across the table, regarding her with a blend of curiosity and uncharacteristic uncertainty in his eyes. She recognized with a pang of regret that she had put that look there – had sown those seeds of doubt about their relationship in his mind by continually pushing him away. She hadn't realized until this very moment how much her actions had hurt him. Well, it was time to start making up for that now.

Gathering herself, she pushed her chair back from the table and rose, extending an inviting hand to her companion. Heart hammering in her chest, she asked quietly, "May I have this dance?"

Jean-Luc's eyebrows quirked in surprise. Of all the things he might have anticipated her to ask, that wasn't it. He hardly ever danced – she surely knew that. But there was little he could ever deny her. "Is this a special occasion?"

She returned his gaze with great solemnity. "Yes," she replied, without elaborating.

"In that case…" Without further ado he rose and closed the distance between them, clasping her outstretched hand in his. While he didn't understand where she was going with all this, and worried that they were treading perilously close to ground that she had marked as forbidden territory, he trusted her not to dally with his heart.

He took her in his arms and let her draw them into a slow dance, moving in time to the music emanating from the hidden speakers. He followed her lead willingly, leaning into her as they leisurely made their way around the room, just reveling in the sensation of simply being so close to her once again, whatever the reason behind it. Long ago he'd learned to ignore the constant ache of yearning that her presence evoked within him, and as there was no telling when – or if – this situation might arise again, he resolved to remain fully in the moment, not dwelling on either disappointments of the past or hopes for the future.

Beverly contemplated her companion as they slowly swayed across the room together, deeply struck by how much she was enjoying the experience. She had never danced with him alone before. Not with him, really, only an imposter who had looked like Jean-Luc. Yet every step he took was right in tune with hers, and the pleasure she was taking from the warmth of his hands on hers, from the proximity of his body… If she was honest with herself, it felt good to be with him like this. It felt beyond good – it felt _right_. Whatever the ultimate consequences, this – what they felt, this unique, beautiful bond they shared between them – was right.

She gradually slowed them to a halt and raised her clear blue eyes to Jean-Luc's, shifting one hand to rest against his chest. "I've been doing a lot of thinking these past few days."

_Since her alternate self arrived on the ship_, he interpreted, but said nothing aloud.

"About us."

And there it was. All evening he had been unable to shake the impression that their relationship had reached a crossroads and was about to undergo an irrevocable shift – and this was confirmation. _But a shift in which direction?_ He wholeheartedly wished he knew.

From his short time in the presence of Beverly's duplicate, it was clear that the woman had been mourning the loss of the Picard in her own universe. Beyond that he could only deduce – that they had shared a life together that had been cut tragically short. He feared that his own Beverly might be viewing that outcome as a warning to further distance herself from him emotionally, to avoid the possibility of ever being hurt in the same way.

Yet she'd said 'us,' rather than 'you and me.' Foolish as it was, he took heart from the plural.

Beverly took a deep breath to steady herself, willing herself the strength to go through with this. "Jean-Luc. After Kesprytt, I…I pushed you away. I'm sorry. Discovering how we felt about each other, how you'd felt for so long – it was too much all at once, and I meant what I said about my being afraid. Not of our relationship changing, but of losing you."

Jean-Luc stared at her, hardly able to breathe, as she continued,

"So I convinced myself that I didn't have those feelings, because having you and losing you would be worse than never having you at all." Swallowing hard, she thought back to the anguished confession of her alternate self, and that Beverly's grief and regret over what might have been. "But it appears I was wrong." It was far too late to go on pretending that his loss wouldn't devastate her, whether they were lovers or not.

She shook her head with a rueful smile at her own folly and firmly lifted her eyes to meet his. "It seems I love you no matter how hard I try to deny it."

Jean-Luc felt the corners of his mouth lift as an impossible wave of hope began to flood his heart. His grip on her waist tightened as he fought to keep a rein on his suddenly surging emotions.

She raised one hand to gently cup his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his cheekbone, then pressed a quick kiss to his lips before drawing back slightly and resting her forehead against his. "I'm still afraid, Jean-Luc," she added softly, because she owed him the truth, "but I'm no longer going to let that fear rule my life."

She leaned back and let out a puff of breath. "So I thought we might explore our feelings after all. That is – " she faltered, "if that's still what you want."

Jean-Luc knew there was only one way to answer. He lifted a gentle hand to the back of her neck, stirring the fine red hairs at the nape. Then he brought his lips to hers and proceeded to show her his heart.

They'd kissed before, briefly, tenderly. But those chaste, fleeting moments had in no way prepared her for this. The intensity of this kiss was something new, an intoxicating blend of delicate longing, fierce passion, and melting desire that was nearly overpowering. She leaned into him, her lips parting in eager anticipation as she felt Jean-Luc's tongue flick against them. Moaning low in her throat, she opened her mouth and allowed him entrance. Immediately he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing against hers, sending sizzling, high-voltage currents back and forth between them and lighting every cell in her body on fire.

He kissed her thoroughly until her head swam with ardor and lack of air. With a ragged gasp she broke the sweet contact and drew back, heart pounding. Gazed into his warm hazel eyes, the taste of him lingering on her lips like fine wine.

There could be no doubt now as to whether her feelings were still requited, or whether this was the right time to act on them. And if she'd had any uncertainty as to whether there lurked beneath Jean-Luc's detached, composed demeanor an undercurrent of intense passion, that too had been fully extinguished.

She wondered now what had ever possessed her to deny herself this.

She wanted more. She wanted everything. It was time. She was ready, ready to open her heart, to finally act on her love for this beautiful man and start building a life, together. She gazed at him in quiet rapture as he reached up and tenderly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"I love you," he whispered huskily, his lips inches from hers. "I always have." The sense of release at finally being able to say it aloud was immeasurable.

Beverly reached up to clasp his hand in hers, bringing it to her lips and pressing a burning kiss into his palm.

The sheer intimacy of the gesture filled him with joy. And as the warmth of pure, unadulterated happiness spread throughout his body Jean-Luc could only focus on the singular thought that finally, at long last, his deepest desire was going to be fulfilled. The two of them were going to be together. And it was going to be worth the twenty year wait.

FIN


End file.
